


Into Temptation

by nochick_fics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon - TV, M/M, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6717130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel gives into temptation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Immediately following Season 9, Episode 10 "Road Trip." Originally posted to LiveJournal on 1/17/14.

Now that Castiel understood that vehicles needed gas to run, he knew to refuel the rickety pimp-yacht on wheels he had “borrowed” in his quest to aid Dean. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known exactly how to refuel the car, which resulted in poking at its quarter panel with the gas nozzle until an amused station attendant finally came to his rescue. Now with that settled--at least until he ran out of gas again--he was able to drive to his destination without any further delays.  
  
And so there he sat, parked at the far end of a grocery store parking lot and watching humans go about their daily lives, buying food and whatever else the establishment had to offer that was pertinent to their existence. In spite of having recently experienced humanity for himself, the angel was still ignorant of so much. For instance, who knew that things like toothpaste and toilet paper were of such vital importance?  
  
He concentrated on the crowd, as if doing so would negate the fact that he was sitting there in the first place, waiting for something he didn’t want to want. It was the worst kind of depravity, the thing that he was seeking and, more so, the one from whom he sought it. But that was also part of the appeal, and it beckoned to his rebellious side in a way that was almost impossible to resist.  
  
No, not almost.  
  
“This is madness,” he whispered as he seized the steering wheel tightly, his expression an equal blend of contemplation and confusion. “What am I doing here?”  
  
“Sitting in broad daylight like some sort of stalker,” Crowley replied from the passenger seat. “Hello, love.”  
  
Castiel felt a rush of hate when he heard the demon’s gruff accent, hate that was laced with a hint of jealousy. Since he had also “borrowed” the grace that he presently possessed, there were certain things that he was still unable to do, hence all the driving. That the reprehensible piece of filth beside him could come and go as he pleased while Castiel was reduced to relying on human means for transport irritated him greatly.  
  
“I am not a stalker,” he said, turning toward the demon and favoring him with a glare. “And I am certainly not your love.”  
  
“Ah, yes. I forgot that distinction belongs to Squirrel.” Crowley’s grin was smug and infuriating. “Well, then. Since I have an election to win and you have a stick to reinsert into that tight little angel ass of yours, let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?”  
  
He leaned across the seat, moving in close like an animal stalking its prey. His left hand found a spot on the headrest behind Castiel’s head and his right hand found an even better spot between Castiel’s legs.  
  
“I had no idea that your vessel was so remarkably hung.” Crowley looked down and grinned wickedly. “It feels like someone has _really_ been looking forward to a demon handie.”  
  
Castiel closed his eyes and willed himself to stop trembling as Crowley fondled him. His knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.  
  
“I… h-haven’t… I… don’t… want…” It was all Castiel could manage before giving up on the lie.  
  
Crowley unzipped Castiel’s pants and reached inside. He grabbed a handful of cock and pulled it out into the open.  
  
“Settle down, Castiel,” he said. “There are far worse things in life than letting the King of Hell feel you up.”  
  
Castiel _strongly_ begged to differ. Unfortunately, he was already far past the point of saying so. Crowley’s hand was big with a hint of roughness and it felt entirely too good wrapped around him to offer any rebuttal.  
  
“Just… hurry up, you disgusting wretch,” he moaned as he thrust into the demon’s fist.  
  
“Mmm, you know the sweet talk only turns me on,” Crowley purred.  
  
“Crowley,” Castiel growled, hips still bucking, seeking more friction against his dick.  
  
Crowley smiled triumphantly. “Alright, alright. As you wish.” With an impatient grunt, he grabbed Castiel by the hair, yanked his head back, and proceeded to jerk him off even harder.  
  
It didn’t take long at all. Castiel could feel the heat uncoiling, swelling, and then tearing throughout his body. The absolute wrongness of the situation, that he, an angel of the Lord, would allow himself to be handled like that by the lowest form of being, only made it worse. And better. For as much as he had tried to deny his desire, Castiel found himself swept away instead, and he gave himself up to Crowley’s stroking and squeezing and rubbing until he came with a loud, sharp cry and spurted all over his shirt and Crowley’s hand.  
  
He jerked and jolted as the demon cruelly teased his sensitive, softening cock, then fell back against the seat with a long, shuddering sigh when Crowley finally decided to let him go.  
  
“I wonder if angel cum is good for the skin,” Crowley said, staring in amusement at the mess that coated his fingers. He glanced at the panting lump beside him and waited for a response.  
  
Castiel opened his eyes and blinked at the roof of the car. He was overcome with a wave of revulsion over what he had just done. It was just as strong as the lust but not nearly as pleasant.  
  
“Get out.”  
  
Crowley ever so kindly wiped his hand off on Castiel’s shirt. “You know, returning the favor would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”  
  
“I have no intention of touching you, Crowley.” Castiel pushed his hand away and craned his neck to face him. “And this is _never_ going to happen again.”  
  
“Can’t blame a demon for trying,” Crowley replied with a shrug. “Besides, defiling you gets me off way more than your hand ever could.”  
  
He paused for a moment, his gaze trailing down to Castiel’s lips.  
  
“Now as for your mouth…”  
  
Castiel made a fist, ready to strike--  
  
“Say hello to Moose for me.” A snap of the fingers later and Crowley was gone.  
  
Castiel stared at the empty space where Crowley had been sitting. After a while, he shook his head and zipped himself up, cringing at the stickiness. He would tend to the damage in a moment, including his poor, soiled shirt. But for right now, he simply wanted to wallow in his self-hate. Perhaps if he did that, it would serve as a deterrent from any future backsliding, a reminder that he would rather kill Crowley than fuck him.  
  
Eventually, Castiel decided to head back and meet Sam. He drove with elderly-like precaution, taking his sweet time in order to allow his mind ample opportunity to focus on the many things that needed to be done… and trying not to acknowledge his anticipation over the very thing that he swore would never happen again.


End file.
